Page 11 of Mutual Desire

Still holding his phone, Damien quickly typed a message to Craig, apologizing again and asking to meet up. His eyes were fixed on the screen as he hit send when, suddenly, he collided with someone, spilling liquid on his black jacket.

“Shit—sorry,” Damien began, looking up and found himself staring into the most beautiful face he had ever seen.

For a moment, Damien thought he might be dreaming.

The man standing in front of him was too perfect to be real.

FIVE

The Silent Room

That face — striking, masculine, and impossibly perfect — seemed more like a fantasy than flesh.His features were chiseled with a precision that felt inhuman—like a sculpture come to life. Could anyone be this impossibly beautiful? The man’s broad shoulders and long, lean body were dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit with no tie, and his hair was a dirty blond, tousled just enough to appear effortlessly refined. Red lips contrasted his pale skin, and the faintest hint of expensive cologne wafted toward Damien, intoxicating his senses.

But the true masterpiece of this striking figure? His eyes—two rare, mesmerizing gray orbs that seized Damien’s breath. They were unlike anything he had ever seen, piercing and almost alien in their intensity. When their gazes locked, Damien felt as though the man could see through every defense, down to the marrow of his soul. For a moment, Damien forgot how to breathe, trapped under the weight of those eyes.

Then, the spell shattered.

“Der'mo,” the man muttered under his breath, the Russian curse cutting through the moment like a sharp blade.

Reality snapped back into focus. Damien’s heart plummeted as he realized what had happened—the coffee cup in his hand had spilled, not only onto his jacket but onto the man’s pristine white shirt. A brown, spreading stain marred the crisp fabric.

“Sh-shit! I’m so sorry!” Damien stammered, mortification creeping up his neck like a heatwave.

The man’s cold gaze fell to the stain on his shirt, brushing at it with elegant, long fingers. He didn’t bother acknowledging Damien’s apology, his expression teetering between irritation and disinterest.

“I’m sorry,” Damien repeated, voice quieter now, as if trying to minimize the disaster.

At last, the man lifted his head, pinning Damien with a stare so cold it could freeze a flame. His expression softened by only a fraction, but his eyes remained sharp and assessing, like a blade just waiting to strike.

“Do you often walk without looking where you’re going, or am I simply unlucky to have crossed your path today?”His voice was deep and smooth, carrying an unmistakable edge—like silk wrapped around steel. Each word was laced with effortless cruelty, cutting through the air with precision.

Damien blinked, struggling to process the sudden hostility. “I—I’m sorry?”

The man tilted his head slightly, the hint of a smirk flickering at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, so not only are you careless, but you’re hard of hearing, too. I asked if this lack of attention is a habit, or if I’ve just had the misfortune of running into you.”

Damien stood frozen, completely caught off-guard by the man’s sharp words and the absurd escalation over an accidental spill.

“When you drive,” the man continued, his voice smooth but unforgiving, “is your face glued to your phone like that, too?”

Damien shifted the strap of his bag, feeling the stranger’s judgment press down on him like a weight. What had started as an awkward apology now felt like some sortof public indictment.Was this guy for real right now?

“That’s a yes or no question,” the man added, tone unwavering. “Or should I take your silence as a yes?”

The absurdity of the situation made Damien’s head spin. Was this guy seriously equating a spilled coffee with vehicular manslaughter? His jaw tightened in frustration, anger bubbling beneath his embarrassment.

“Are you serious right now?” Damien muttered, trying to contain his temper. He gave the man a once-over, realizing that someone so stunning could be this much of a jerk.

And then Damien snapped.

In one reckless move, he lifted what remained of his coffee and tipped it deliberately onto the man’s ruined shirt.Damien let the cup slipped from his grasp, hitting the ground with a dull thud, the last drops splattering onto the polished floor.

“My bad,” Damien said flatly, sarcasm dripping from his words.

The stranger’s eyes darkened, but Damien didn’t stick around to see his reaction. Adrenaline surged through him as he spun on his heel, marching toward the elevator. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat more chaotic than the last. It wasn’t like him to lash out like that, but something about this man—his arrogance, his audacity—had pushed Damien over the edge.

The elevator doors slid shut, but the encounter played on a loop in Damien’s mind, taunting him. Those gray eyes, that impossible beauty, the electric tension between them—who the hell was that guy? And why couldn’t Damien stop thinking about him?

Maybe he was just stressed about the presentation, Damien reasoned. Or maybe, just maybe, there was something deeper at play—a pull toward this enigmatic, infuriating stranger that he couldn't yet understand. But one thing was certain: the man had made an impression. And as much as Damien wanted to hate him, he found it impossible to ignore the magnetic pull that lingered long after they had parted ways.

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